


Insatiate

by anonymous_sibyl



Category: Rome
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-06-26
Updated: 2008-06-26
Packaged: 2017-10-03 06:35:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,250
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15211
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anonymous_sibyl/pseuds/anonymous_sibyl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Antony has a proper Roman's interest in farming and Atia is fascinated.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Insatiate

**Author's Note:**

> This work is licensed under a [Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-No Derivative Works 3.0 United States License](http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc-nd/3.0/us/). None of the media or characters written about in my fanfiction belong to me and I make no profit from these works. 

_"Where I will plow my fields and fuck my slaves."_

It occurred to him that he could have said--and on an ordinary day, in an ordinary time, would have said--plow his slaves as well as his fields. The vulgarity lent an air of fecundity that pleased him, as if his slaves would be like his trees, bursting and ready to be plucked. That in the country sugary juices would run over his hands and face.

He distracted himself by imagining tastes and textures, how juices have a sweeter flavor when warmed by the sun. He'd take a slave in the field, perhaps two. Feel the heat of the day on their skin and his. Roll in the dirt like a man should when he approaches his gods.

Before the priests could begin prattling he whispered to Atia. "Would you fuck me in the dirt, sweet?"

All the curves on that woman yet her elbow struck as hard as any Centurion's weapon. Slave-fucking it would be, then. The lovely Atia preferred cool drinks and warm baths after a fuck. He'd drink from the river he bathed in and love it. His slaves could refresh themselves as they pleased. Once he was done with them, that is.

"In the water?"

She hissed and struck again like the viper she was.

"Bitch."

"I've had you fucked this morning, I've had you fed, and now you will be silent, Antony."

Yes, right, respect for the dead and the gods, though for Atia it was more desire to be respected by the living. He grieved privately, with every punch and cut, every lift and thrust, and with every violent or sexual act in which he indulged. Grief gained dead Caesar nothing but vengeance gained peace for those in the underworld and satisfaction for the ones left behind.

"I will have you, woman," he growled.

"You will have nothing if you do not stop."

I will have everything, he thought to himself. I will take what is mine and what was Caesar's, and there is no one with the strength in his balls to stop me.

"Your son, lady," he said when they'd returned to her home, "has intelligence. Has he the blood to take what it is he desires?"

"He is my son," she responded with a shrug. "And a Julii. Of course he does." She didn't look away from her mirror as she spoke, busier by far stripping heavy gold orbs from her ears. "I fail to see why you should care to inquire, Antony. After all, are you not far more concerned with _dirt_ and _water_?"

"Farming," he stated. "I have a proper Roman's interest in farming."

"Farming. I see," she said dryly. "How fascinating, Antony. Do tell."

"I have a fondness for lemons."

"You don't find them tart?"

"Oh, quite, love." He took her hand from where it fussed with unbound her hair and raised it to his mouth. "But I find I enjoy that." He licked her palm. "At times."

Keeping her back to him, she tore her hand from his. "And at other times?"

"Not to be trite, my darling, but like most men I enjoy peaches." He ran his hands first over her ass then around the front of her body before settling on her magnificent tits and pulling her to him. "Peaches," he growled into her neck, moving her hair aside with his lips. "Sweet. Juicy."

"Really."

Her voice was dry but when he admired the two of them in the mirror he noted she was attempting to stifle a smile. "You have gloriously rounded orbs, Atia," he said, lifting and squeezing her tits. "Superb."

"Should I thank you for that…_compliment_?"

"You could." He again nuzzled her neck, biting down and across her shoulder. "However I've never been one to care for what is mannerly, so I'd much prefer you suck my cock in appreciation. Or at least give me a good grope." He took her right hand and pulled It behind her back. "What do you say, love?"

What she said was more than likely an expression of disgust with his lack of proper Roman graces but ever since she'd wrapped her fingers around his cock he'd stopped listening. He lifted his gaze and admired them in her mirror. They were splendid together, her alabaster skin and flaming hair complementing his darker, rougher appearance. "Next to you I look quite the barbarian."

"You are a barbarian."

"Just the way you like me, eh, Atia?" He thrust forward into her hand and hiked her dress up. He watched the emerald silk bare first her calves, then her rounded thighs, then, finally, the reward nestled between them. He stroked his fingertip through the auburn curls before thrusting it lower and inside.

"If I were to taste you," he asked, "would it be tart or sweet?"

"If you were to taste me, Antony, I would die of the shock that you put my pleasure before your own."

"A challenge, then." He rubbed his thumb over her clit and laughed when she clenched her jaw, obviously to keep from letting him hear her enjoyment. "I never resist a challenge."

He spun her around then lifted her over his shoulder, her head dangling down behind. He slapped her ass to watch it jiggle. "You are irresistible."

"Put me down," she ordered.

"I will, sweet Atia, when I reach a place where it's comfortable for me to kneel and taste you." He slapped her ass again. "I may pleasure you but I will not do it at the cost of my own comfort."

"Some barbarian you are."

"Barbarian does not mean fool." He bit the side of her ass, enjoying the firmness between his teeth. "Now stop complaining, Atia. You're becoming tiresome and I've yet to fuck you."

She responded by clamping her jaws on his ass.

"That's my girl." He patted her appreciatively.

"Put me down," she again ordered. "Now, Antony. I mean it."

"As you desire, my love." He dropped her on the couch nearest them and knelt before her, making sure to support his weary soldier's knees on one of the pillows that had been dislodged when she landed with a bounce. "Now…" He pushed her dress until it rose above her hips. "Spread your legs, woman. Your knees are clamped tighter than Cicero's mouth when he suspects someone nearby is experiencing happiness."

She pushed at him with her heels, which only allowed him to take her by the back of her thighs and pull her legs over his shoulders. "Splendid, Atia," he murmured. "Now I am going to pleasure you and for once I am not going to ask you to shut your mouth when you begin to babble on."

He leaned forward and gently blew over her curls before parting her with his fingers. "I would, actually, prefer it if you screamed. Loudly. Preferably my name and references to my prowess and near-godhood."

"I highly doubt you will achieve anything of the sort." Her tirade ended in a surprised moan. "Oh."

He licked and sucked at her until she thrashed and called out above him. His godhood affirmed he rose above her, positioning his cock at her opening. "You've a lovely cunt, Atia." He kissed her open mouth as he entered her. "And you taste--"

"Shut your mouth and fuck me, Antony." She grasped his buttocks and pulled him close as she thrust up beneath him. "Gods, you are wearisome until you've been satiated."

"Sweet."


End file.
